


Do It Again

by alemara



Category: Burn Notice, Milliways, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alemara/pseuds/alemara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Back Room fic challenge.  Prompt: Emma/Michael, heat of the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do It Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afullmargin (anemptymargin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



The thing is, she always seems to just _lose_ it around him.

She tells herself it's the rush of adrenaline: it gets her blood moving, makes her want to run, fight, push him until he pushes her back, and she's partly right. There's something addicting about the whirlwind of insanity that is his life; always something to do, always a problem to solve, always a bad guy to bring in. They're a good team, sometimes a great team, and she's not the first person to take that connection and make it mean something else.

She tells herself that's why she's sitting on the counter at his loft, his fingers digging into her hips and her legs wrapped around his waist, pressed up against each other like she needs him to breathe. It's a way to blow off steam, just happens because they're both so caught up. God knows it's got nothing to do with him being a nice guy or her being a nice girl and though sometimes she can taste alcohol on his lips it's not the end result of a nice dinner with a nice bottle of wine.

There's nothing nice about this at all.

(That's what she tells herself, though it's harder to believe when they fall asleep sharing a pillow and wake up already sweating in the Miami heat with the sheet tangled around them.)

She tells herself it won't happen again, because it can't keep happening without blowing up in their faces, but then that moment comes and she has to admit he's her favorite mistake to make when he's smiling that perfect smile at her from over a beer or after kicking her ass on the shooting range or when the bad guys are groaning on the floor around them.

But when she tells herself, alone in the room above the bar or the loft above the club with the lights dim all around them and everything out of focus except for him and his smile and his stupid blue eyes, that it's just the heat of the moment, even she doesn't believe it anymore.


End file.
